


over-bitten

by goodnightpuckbunny



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexy blood drinking, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-02 18:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21166010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodnightpuckbunny/pseuds/goodnightpuckbunny
Summary: Sid pulled the collar of his shirt down, hoping he looked delicious and not desperate. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”





	over-bitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintroux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintroux/gifts).

> I hope you enjoy this! Barely any plot—mostly just mutual pining, biting, and fucking. :) I haven't written about sexy vampires in at least a decade. The working title for this was "not a snack but a whole ass-meal" which can refer to both Sid and Geno.

Sid was surprised to see Geno at the Summer Sticks event, not just because it was fairly sunny out, but also because Geno hated golf. Clearly he hadn’t told the Penguins’ media team he was coming because he was in his own clothes—not the striped, team-branded polo—buttoned up to the chin, with enormous sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat. Sid thought he looked like he belonged in one of those hipster bands. He found it attractive nonetheless. 

“Hi, Sid,” Geno said when he crawled out of the golf cart he’d commandeered and drove up the green towards Sid. He had a faux-bashful bent to his body, but the twist of his mouth gave him away as he leaned towards Sid and into a hug. He was up to something.

“Hi yourself.” He pulled Geno all the way towards him, wrapping his arms around Geno tightly. The camera crew that was following Sid dutifully caught it all. 

Seeing Geno again was one of the best parts of coming back to town. It always made his stomach quiver, despite the fact that it was never the heart-swooping blockbuster reunion that he built up in his mind every summer. Geno was always cool. He always did something kind of cheeky, and Sid fought not to embarrass himself by being too into it. 

This time, Geno chirped him, and fiddled with the club in Sid’s hand, following on his heels and making Sid laugh. Sid couldn’t exactly play golf while that was happening, but he was sure that Geno wanted his attention instead. He was all too happy to give it to him. 

“Excited for the season?”

“Of course,” Geno scoffed. “We win again for sure.”

Sid grinned. “Threepeat, eh?” He thought the word was stupid, but he was happy to keep answering questions about it all year if it meant good fortune come playoffs. 

“Three Cups in three years, then no one bother us again. Best players, all time. We retire early and move to beach.”

“If I’m coming with you, we’d _ both _ burn to a crisp.”

“Okay, you stay up in snow. Freeze to death. More bikini girls for me, so it’s fine.”

Sid didn’t dignify that with a reply; Geno could have as many bikini girls as he wanted, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d be bored after about a week of being stuck indoors. “You had a good summer, I hear.”

Geno grinned at that, and proceeded to regale Sid with the stories that didn’t make it onto anyone’s Instagram pages. He talked a lot about his Cup party and the little bit of light travel he did. Most of what he said was missing important details, but Sid got the gist of it. Geno hit the punchline to a tale about a threesome he happened upon just as Sid was taking a sip from his bottle, and he snorted water out his nose. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and ignored the glare of the media people burning hot on the back of his head. 

It was good to have Geno back.

“Are you hungry?” Sid asked him at a moment when everyone else was momentarily distracted. It was an open secret that Geno fed from Sid, but still a secret. 

Geno shook his head. “I eat lots before flight. I eat all summer, so, good for now.” Sid imagined the mischievous twinkle in Geno’s eye behind the shade of his sunglasses. 

Of course, it was easier for Geno to get what he needed in Russia. People spoke his language, and he didn’t have cameras following him everywhere. He probably had a lineup down the block to his Moscow apartment—a sordid affair, Sid imagined, with beautiful people taking off their beautiful clothes to bare their skin for Geno. It’s not like Sid could just drop everything and fly to Europe every few weeks just because he wanted to be helpful. It was a _ good _ thing that Geno ate before coming to Pittsburgh. 

Sid was only concerned for him as a friend, and he wasn't jealous because Geno would still come to him.

“Okay, well,” Sid said, “you know where to find me when you need me.”

“Probably sometime before season start,” Geno offered.

“Sure, sure,” Sid nodded. The last time Geno had fed on him was before the final in a spare hour before their final flight to Nashville. Now Sid’s body _ ached _for it. He felt flushed and ready, full to the brim, but of course, he would’t push. It was about whatever Geno needed. That was what he had promised himself from the beginning. 

* * *

When Sid was nineteen and Geno had joined the team, Sid thought Geno was cool and aloof. He towered over Sid, and the stubborn jut of his lip seemed raking and intriguing. He’d easily agreed when the management at the time had asked if he could be Geno’s backup feed in a pinch. Geno was supposed to learn English so he wouldn’t have to rely on the team for his meals, but the entire first year he’d seemed satisfied with pulling Sid into his hotel room every few weeks. Sid had been thrilled to be on the receiving end of the extent of Geno’s vocabulary, his tone clipped as he rushed through pleasantries on the way to pressing his mouth against Sid’s pulse.

In any case, Sid knows now that Geno acted like that because he was a man out of place and out of time. Twenty-four forever was a far more terrible curse than it had seemed to Sid back then. Geno fresh off the trip from Russia had the weight of two and a half centuries’ memories on his mind. It had taken time for him to ease up around Sid and everyone else, even if he had wanted to be there.

Sid sometimes wondered if his subtle charisma was a vampire thing, because after all this time, he wasn't any less interesting. He drew Sid in like a magnet. He'd probably spend the rest of his life looking at Geno and wanting him. 

* * *

Geno texted him on their last free day before the season started. _ come over_, he sent in the middle of the afternoon, which could only mean one thing.

September was Sid’s favourite time of the year, after playoffs. He loved seeing his guys again—and meeting the new ones—and getting back out on the ice. But he’d been anticipating this text most of all, and he’d been thinking about Geno way more than he should have. 

Sid was in his gym when he received the text. He was only stretching out on the floor with the resistance bands because he was feeling some tightness in his shoulders, so he didn't bother with a shower. Out of courtesy he changed into a different pair of sweats and a new t-shirt, but Geno had smelled him far sweatier and didn't seem to care. There was a fine line between dressing up for a friend and dressing up for _Geno_, and Sid could never decide where that line was. The t-shirt was tight, but then the sweatpants had a hole in the waistband and a coffee stain that hadn't come out in the wash. He decided he should put on something different, and therefore didn't, just to prove that this was all normal. 

He walked the short distance to Geno’s place because Geno wouldn’t let him drive afterwards anyways. The day was hot and boiling into a storm, and fresh sweat beaded along his hairline as fast as the driving wind dried it. He had to hold his baseball cap to his head. By the time he arrived, his mouth felt practically dusty. He tried to spit into the wild bushes that lined the bricked path to Geno’s house, but mostly only served to wet his lips a little. 

After Sid rang the bell, Geno answered the door with rumpled and grumpy; just woken up and hungry. Sid knew he didn’t sleep in a coffin, but that’s how he imagined Geno waking up before a game in the evening, in the gloom, with a cloud of bats escaping as he lifted the heavy lid. “Come on,” Geno grumbled, “you let in sun.”

The sky had gone dark with clouds, but Sid stepped in past Geno nonetheless. “Can I get a glass of water first?”

“Sparkling?” Geno asked, and Sid scrunched up his face. 

“Regular water is fine.”

Geno smiled at him in that genuine way he reserved for people he was fond of, and it made Sid even warmer than the walk over had. “You never change. Okay, I get, you go sit.” Then he knocked Sid's cap off his head and Sid fumbled to catch it and hang it on the hook by the door. 

Geno’s house was cavernous. Some of the rooms on the main floor were decorated, but for the most part furniture looked like an afterthought, placed there because it had been needed for a moment and then forgotten about. There were renovation projects that had been ongoing for years—a half-empty paint can and a stripe of soft green up one wall, or a stack of cabinet doors on the kitchen table. Geno only used three or four rooms, and the rest were left to dust. 

Sid settled in Geno’s entertainment room, forgoing the penguins-branded armchairs for the couch shoved against the wall. It had been put there for him, and Sid blushed to see it even now. The couch was slightly less embarrassing than Geno’s bed, but not by much. 

It was best practice for both of them if Geno fed once per month, but they made a habit of every three weeks instead. Sid wanted it far more often than that. Usually he tried to avoid thinking about it during the summer, but after two cups he had indulged himself. He felt he was owed at least a few heated, guilt-free fantasies about Geno’s mouth. Now it made him hot up to his ears just being next to Geno, as if he could read Sid's mind and draw out every dirty thought from the last few weeks. 

He'd moved past the panic of liking Geno years ago, but it was still embarrassing sometimes. He felt confident in his feelings—that they were just _part_ of him—yet sometimes when Geno was right in front of him, he got the sense that his emotions were about as subtle as a foghorn. He tried not to give a fuck.

Geno came in with a bottle of water and handed it off. Sid drank as fast as he could—he was tired of waiting and likely to say something ridiculous if this took any longer. 

He dropped the mostly-empty bottle onto the floor and it rolled under the couch. Sid pulled the collar of his shirt down, hoping he looked delicious and not desperate. “Okay,” he said. “I’m ready.”

“Relax,” Geno instructed. “Heart beat so fast. If you bleed out, then I’m have to take media all season. It’s big pain for me.”

He sat down, and Sid rolled his eyes but took a deep breath anyways. The routine was always the same, and he let himself settle into it like he was preparing for a game. 

Sid sat back, letting the over-plush couch cushions engulf him, and Geno leaned over him. He settled into Sid’s lap, all height and length. Then he licked Sid’s neck, his breath hot and the air around them suddenly cool. Sid shivered when Geno’s fangs grazed his skin in the moment before he finally bit. 

He surged up at first, and then settled when Geno remained still as a statue. He only squirmed a little as Geno sucked and pleasure filled him from his core. 

Sid popped a boner every time. 

_At least._

Graciously, Geno never mentioned it. Nobody on Earth had seen Sid’s erection through his sweatpants more than Geno, surely, but he didn’t make a big deal about it. Sid guessed that it was pretty standard—the sweet pleasure of giving himself up, the edge of pain beneath Geno’s cool, slick mouth warming with Sid's blood, and the alluring forbiddenness of it—anyone would be turned on by it. 

It definitely got him hard the first time. Geno had barely spoken a word of English. After they had been left alone together in the trainer’s room, Geno merely sat down beside him, tugged away the collar of Sid’s shirt, and started kissing his neck. The chilly slide of his mouth made Sid shiver all over, and when Sid felt truly overwhelmed by it, Geno had clamped down to bite him. He had moaned and writhed, and his blood had gotten everywhere. Geno had licked it all up, his eyes glazed, and then later than night had a barn-burner of a game. Sid watched him from the bench, exhausted, and wrung-out, and thrilled. 

They were more careful now. Sid wore clothes that he didn’t give a shit about getting messy, and Geno didn’t take too much. It wasn’t the wild desperation of Sid’s youth, but instead was a relentless burn. He was trapped beneath Geno's fangs, and it was just where he wanted to be.

The feeding always left Sid feeling used, pummeled by his own desire and sucked dry. He didn’t always come, but if Geno did something more than just bite—touch his chest or the back of his head, or pressed into Sid’s lap—then he was pretty likely to do it. And it didn’t seem to matter that Sid was thirty and Geno had taken his blood probably a hundred times already. Geno now got him just as hot as Geno then. 

Maybe there was something there; both of them shied away from the subject entirely. But when Sid looked at Geno, sometimes he saw what neither of them would admit. 

Sid’s eyes stayed shut now, but he lifted his hand and ran it down Geno’s back, who moaned lowly. He felt the smooth lines of Geno's muscles through his shirt. The bite hurt in an abstract way like pressing on a bruise, or stretching a sore muscle. Sid gave into the sensation of Geno pulling steady mouthfuls of blood from him, and let himself drift, floating on the slow burn of pleasure like sinking into a bath. 

Nine times out of ten, before Geno was done, Sid fell asleep.

It was only for about twenty minutes—a power nap. When he woke up, Geno was always there with some kind of snack and a big, fluffy blanket. 

“None of this is on my meal plan,” Sid said, looking over Geno’s plate of offerings. The fact that Geno didn’t ever eat was unsettling, but he still kept a pantry full of Sid’s illicit favourites. 

Geno ignored his comment and sat down next to Sid. He wrapped the blanket around both of their shoulders, and then flipped on the TV. “It’s really rain outside now, so you stay. Watch show with me—take another nap. Maybe after that we order more food.”

“Okay,” Sid agreed. Geno leaned into his side, which didn’t do much to help abate Sid's lingering erection. He crunched through some apple slices and folded pieces of salty prosciutto into his mouth. Then he moved on to the real treat, which was a hefty handful of chocolate-covered peanut butter bites that Geno had found for him at a bakery several years ago and now had special-ordered. They were sprinkled with salt flakes and had far too much fat and sugar to be considered acceptable before the season began. Sid ate four of them in a row.

Geno scrolled through the channels at top speed and eventually settled on a West-coast baseball game. "Good?"

Sid nodded, and then tried not to make it weird when Geno wriggled his arm between Sid's back and the couch. He settled his hand above Sid's hip. Right now Sid was grateful for Andy's brutal summer workouts that kept him lean around the middle, but that wasn't going to last if he kept indulging in Geno's snack offerings. 

He tried to concentrate on the game. Normally he liked baseball because it was a simple game, but he was having a hard time focusing. Geno was stretching and reclining further into the couch, his bare feet sticking out of the blanket, and he was warmer than usual from feeding. Lately, Geno seemed more affectionate after he ate. Sid didn't know what could account for his change in behavior. It was like Geno was testing boundaries and waiting for Sid to pull away from him. He wasn't going to find that point; Sid didn't have limits when it came to Geno.

If it weren't for hockey, Geno could drain him dry. His dick throbbed at the thought, and he cupped a hand over his neck where Geno's bite itched and throbbed. It was sensitive as fuck, and sore, but he wasn't bleeding. 

"Don't," Geno warned. 

Sid took his hand away. "It's kinda—"

"You touch too much, it gets infected. Then you have to wear bandage and it's very embarrassing for you."

"I'll just tell people you're a messy eater," Sid replied, and Geno dug his nails into Sid's hip in retaliation. The thought of everyone being able to see the evidence of Geno's feeding made him flush a bit. There were only three vampires in the league, and everyone would know exactly who the mark came from. It was kind of too bad that it would fade by the next time he was in front of a camera.

Geno drew in a breath. "Sid," he started.

"Mm-hm?" Sid reached up and touched his neck again. 

"Stop it," Geno huffed. He grabbed Sid's wrist and drew his hand away. 

"Sorry," Sid said, although he wasn't. "It's just itchy, you know?"

Geno sat up and looked at him. Sid's breath caught. Geno's eyes were half-lidded, but there was this depth there—an expanse of emotion that he couldn't hope to understand completely. Sometimes he forgot that Geno was _old_. He always had this feeling that Geno was _his_, and belonged to this time, and to the team, but Geno had been alive for centuries. He was more complicated than he let on. 

He leaned in and licked across the bite wound, startling Sid into a moan. The feeling of it was kind of electric—a shock that went right to his cock.

Abruptly, Sid wanted Geno to bite him again. He very nearly begged for it as Geno laved again and again over the bite. The motion only intensified his desperation, and when he pulled away, Sid whimpered. 

"Fuck, do that again," Sid whined. "Why don't you do that all the time?" He tugged on the front of Geno's shirt to reel him back in, but Geno didn't allow himself to be moved. Sid wished for a rink so he could knock Geno around. He had no leverage here. 

"Sid," Geno said again, in the same tone he had used a minute ago. He lifted his hand and gently pressed his thumb to the corner of Sid's eye. Then he combed his finger's through Sid's hair. He could tell that Geno was looking at all the little signs of aging, at his wrinkles and sprinkling of greys, but it only served to make Sid feel young and reckless. "I can't wait forever."

Geno was right. Sid closed the scant distance between them and kissed him.

At first, Geno made a surprised noise and stilled, but then he kissed back in no time at all. It was chaste for a moment—a soft press of lips—and then their equal competitiveness got the better of them. Sid slid his hands up Geno's shirt, and Geno slipped his tongue into Sid's mouth. He tasted like copper and salt. Sid should have been repulsed by it, but it only spurred him on. When he pressed back, he could feel the sharp threat of Geno's fangs. He wanted everything at once, and was dizzy with desire. 

Sid pushed his hands further inside Geno's shirt, stopping for a moment to palm his sides before moving on to the prize. Sid cupped the muscles of Geno's chest, and then rubbed his nipples, testing a theory. Geno always flinched away from the teasing hands of teammates trying to pinch his chest, and sure enough, when Sid touched them Geno moaned. His fangs descended and grazed Sid's tongue. 

"Does that feel good?" Sid asked, because he wanted to hear Geno say it. 

Geno only nodded, though. Sid kissed him again, and squeezed Geno's muscles, trying to tease out another reaction. Geno shifted, pushing his chest into Sid's hands, his knees falling open. 

Sid moved so he leaning over Geno, and slid his shirt up, rucking it beneath his armpits. Then after a parting kiss, he leaned down and put his mouth over one of Geno's nipples. He thought he heard Geno say "please," and wanting to give Geno the same delight Sid enjoyed so often, he bit lightly. 

The result was Geno flinging a hand out to clench the couch's upholstery. Sid heard a distinct tearing sound, and bit just a little bit harder. 

"_Yes_," Geno gasped. 

Sid wanted to be inside Geno. He wanted to fuck into him, deep, and slow, so that Geno would cry out and wreck the furniture. Sid had hoped that Geno would be like this, but he hadn't dared to try and find out. In retrospect, it was an enormous mistake. They could have been fucking for _years_, every time that Geno fed. 

He didn't have the patience to fuck Geno, though. He wasn't about to move this to the bedroom—there was always next time. Instead, he sucked on Geno's nipple and worked on getting Geno's pants off. They were some ugly pattern, but at least they only had a drawstring to unfasten. Geno's cock stood out through the soft fabric, and Sid stroked him a few times to the tune of Geno's increasingly frustrated sounds. Finally he focused his attention on getting Geno's pants down his miles of legs to his ankles.

_God_, Geno's cock looked good. 

Sid had seen it, of course, but never like this. Never stiff and needy, and flushed and hard. That was Sid's blood turning the length of it pink. It was long and curved just slightly towards Geno's belly.

Geno squirmed as he stared. He was _blushing_. "Sid," he complained, "take picture—it's last longer."

"What's it like?" Sid asked.

"Annoying."

Sid shook his head. "I mean, to have me inside you. My blood."

Geno moved to hide his cock, but Sid took his wrist and held it away. "Don't know," Geno said. He could break away from Sid's hold, but he wasn't. "Feels good."

"Yeah?" Sid used his left hand to wrap around Geno's cock and stroke it. 

"Feels like you're part of me. And I know, like, you want me biting you and taking you. You want so bad." Sid spat in his palm and then stroked a little firmer. 

"What do _you_ want?"

"You," Geno confessed, his hips moving in time with Sid. "I want you for so long."

Well, if Geno was open to suggestions, Sid was going to do what he wanted. He let go of Geno's wrist, and then pressed Geno's stomach down instead to keep his movements to a minimum. He hadn't done this for a long time, but he was determined to do it anyways. He knelt down on the couch, half over Geno's lap, and took Geno's cock into his mouth as far as it would go. 

It hit the back of his throat and he spluttered. He refused to pull off and so choked up a gob of spit that bubbled around his lips. Geno cursed above him, but stayed still, other than the pulsing twitch of his dick in Sid's mouth. The uncomfortable spasming of Sid's throat settled, and then he got to work, sucking Geno's cock—a dream come true. 

Geno wasn't especially thick, but it wasn't easy to deepthroat him the way that Sid wanted to. The curve of his cock kept triggering his gag reflex. And it was a little strange that Geno didn't really taste or smell like anything. It wasn't Sid's finest work, but Geno seemed to like it, and Sid made up for his rusty blowjob skills with enthusiasm. He pulled all the way off to the head, sucking hard, and then slid down to the base, letting the spit in his mouth and the bend of Geno's cock do the work. He circled his fingers around the inch or so that wouldn't fit into his mouth, and used his other hand to cup Geno's balls. Sid wanted to maybe finger Geno a little, but he was too busy with just this. _Next time_, he thought. 

Each time Sid bobbed his head, Geno moaned. The longer Sid sucked him, the higher his pitch went, until he was just whimpering. Geno was so easy. Sid couldn't wait to try some other things. Maybe vampires could go a couple of times in a night. 

"Sid," Geno said, voice urgent, "gonna come—Sid, fuck—" 

He slid his mouth off Geno's cock, unwilling to get a mouthful of whatever vampire come was like. He wasn't much for the taste of regular jizz, but he didn't think he could handle swallowing what might just be a nastier version of his second-hand blood. He jerked Geno the rest of the way off, though, moving his hand quickly and flicking his wrist over the head of Geno's cock. He watched Geno's face, his dark eyelashes and furrowed eyebrows and his fat lower lip wet with spit. 

Then he came, making a choked-off sound, almost pained. And to Sid's astonishment, Geno's cock only twitched as his chest heaved. It was a dry orgasm. 

Sid didn't know where to look, so he didn't. It was too much, and suddenly his own erection became urgent again. He half-stood and shucked his sweatpants, kicking them off, and then crawled on top of Geno. He kissed Geno's panting mouth, and when he straddled Geno's hips he found a spot that was slick with his own spit. Sid grunted and rubbed his dick there, reveling in the feeling of Geno still overwhelmed and coming down from an orgasm beneath him, going completely pliant. 

"God, Geno. You look so fucking good, all spread out for me," Sid said. 

Geno sighed happily in his ear. He didn't seem in any hurry to help Sid out, but merely basked in his afterglow. Sid wanted to bite his nipples again—get him to pay attention. 

"You're just gonna lie there, huh?"

Geno hummed. "Need help?" 

"C'mon." He rutted into the crease of Geno's hip. He just needed a little more friction. 

"I think," Geno murmured, lips against Sid's ear, "you not need much."

Then he cradled Sid's jaw in his hands, tilted Sid's face to the side, and bit him again with blunt teeth, right over the first marks.

Sid came like a shot as Geno sucked on him, too lightly to re-open the wound, but enough to satisfy the ache that had been there from the beginning—maybe from the first time. Sid cried out, and spurted across Geno's hip, his softening cock, and his smooth belly. He shuddered all the way down to his toes.

He felt emptied out afterwards, while Geno licked the punctures soothingly. There were prickles of tears at the corners of his eyes, but Sid manfully buried his face into Geno's shoulder to hide them. He felt damp all over. He felt fucking _good_. 

"Should talk about," Geno said after a solid five minutes of emotional silence. The baseball game was still playing on the TV.

What was there to talk about? Sid asked as much, and added, "Do you want to do it again?"

"Yes," Geno replied too quickly, which made Sid smile. 

"So we'll do it again."

"What about other stuff? Like relationship?"

Sid patted Geno's hip. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Geno was quiet for long enough that Sid lifted his head to look at him. Geno was biting his lips, avoiding Sid's gaze. "I can't wait forever," he said finally. 

He was overcome in an instant. He didn't like talking about his feelings, but they were there under the surface anyways. "You won't," Sid promised. He waited for Geno to look at him, then touched his cheek and said, "I like you, okay?"

Geno rolled his eyes. "Yes, okay, I know."

"Do you feel the same?" He pressed. 

It took another moment of silence before Geno spoke again. And when he did speak, his voice was deep with feeling. "This summer, I miss you. All I think about, all I want is you. Of course I like you. Sid, I—"

"Me too," Sid cut him off, because he felt scraped raw by the day's events already, and to go further would be like a barbed fish hook yanking the softness from the chest up through his mouth—messy and irreversible. "But can we save the big confessions for later? Maybe after I've rebuilt my red blood cell count. We could have that nap you were talking about."

"Okay," Geno allowed, though Sid had the feeling that they would be talking about it at the next opportunity. Geno was notoriously impatient. Then Geno shifted, which caused Sid to become uncomfortably aware of just how much of Sid's jizz had been squished between them as their skin pulled apart. "You come all over me," accused Geno.

"I could lick it off."

"Gross, Sid," Geno tutted, and then pushed Sid aside to snatch his sweats from the floor and use them to mop up the mess. 

"Hey!"

Geno wiped his stomach, and then dabbed mostly ineffectually at Sid's. "You stay the night, and borrow mine tomorrow." 

Well, Sid could handle that. He let Geno move them around until they were horizontal. Geno was mostly on top of him, and the blanket around them. Then, warm and satisfied at last, he fell asleep between one breath and the next. 


End file.
